


ELITES.

by HYUKAS



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 04:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18275339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYUKAS/pseuds/HYUKAS
Summary: Minho thinks he's asexual, Hyunjin's dated too many girls to count, Jeongin's a cocky freshman who will do anything to get the top spot, Woojin has 'daddy issues', and while Changbin is slowly losing his will to live, new students arrive, giving him even more shit to do.Great.CROSSPOSTED ON WATTPAD: @/HYUKAIS





	1. 01. welcoming fall

**Author's Note:**

> CROSSPOSTED ON WATTPAD @/SINHOLIC !

FALL: a season filled with amber luminaries that inflate households with warmth and scents of pumpkin spice. It's around this time that mother nature paints the trees with hues of orange and red, tattering their teeth with her sharp swords of wind.

And for enrolled or enrolling students of JYP Academy, their fall break is a hell of a battle against blobs of ink on paper.

Felix groans loudly under the red blanket his late great grandmother knitted for him with care, rustic brown hair sinking over the equally droopy bags under his eyes. His pale skin seems translucent, as if it would shatter at the touch of a feather, and his usual red lips are tearing from all the stress-induced lip biting.

His best friend of twelve years, Jisung, is in a state no better; hair disheveled from all-nighters and usually wide, curious eyes red with exhaustion. His skinny form is sprawled across Felix's bedroom floor, pencil in hand and a textbook in the other, half-finished problems left in his nonexistent nightmares (after all, how long has it been since he's slept?)

"Jisung," Felix croaks out, barely sparing the energy to flop his head to the side. "I think chan hyung was right when he said that we shouldn't put off work..." Chan's voice echoes in his mind mockingly as he says this. Felix chokes out a laugh. "Why are we so stupid?"

Jisung manages a faint 'ha', creaking his head to the side to meet the pretty brown eyes he's accustomed himself to since the second grade. Except now, the lively glow they naturally radiated has been filtered by hours of studying, which, needless to say, puts quite the damper on Jisung's already compressed mood. "I'm not sure," is his careless reply, "but I remember chan hyung telling us to take risks, yeah?"

Felix would've cried out if he had enough power to even attempt the action, but apparently he has enough to snort back, "he said take risks, not put ourselves at risk." All the blonde hears after that is a distressed moan.

After previous notice of their acceptance to participate in next year's exams for JYP Academy, all Felix and Jisunh could think about was becoming a student at the infamous school. Studying this early wasn't uncommon for people across the nation, or the world, for that matter. 

JYP Academy isn't an ordinary enroll-get-in-school, it's literally a world renowned establishment that graduated many respectable persons (many of which that are current ceos, programmers, or politicians.) A better word would be elites.

Just getting in is one thing, but making your lasting mark is another. Measly trophies from a regional championship won't even get you a trivial mention. You'd have to tear down those chains that prohibit your wanted future and scream your name for your tale to remain in the archives of the student body. 

The two boys have already heard of the infamous separation of the school. (Though, that isn't much of surprise, knowing the humongous size of the whole place.) One building was deemed the school of elites, while the other, the school of flops; above average, but still not good enough.

Jisung's nonexistent snooze button had gone even further into a black hole once he figured out that the chances of him getting into the 'superior building' were even slimmer than the already intimidating rate of getting onto school grounds itself. His whining and complaining was anything but music to his friend's ears, and boy, the Lees weren't having it either when he came over. (Which is why they've opted to not spend time with the pair on break.)

The two's reliable hyung, Chan, however, found ways to motivate them like the wonderful older brother he's always been. Chan got snippets of felix's favorite song lyrics and poetry to send over text and often called to talk in their native tongue. For Jisung, he cheered him on with gallons of caffeine (and of course with endless encouragement.) The boy already had all the energy in the world on top of that, so honestly Chan didn't think he'd need much.

"We better make it into this stupid ass school," Jisung mutters, flopping onto his stomach lazily. Felix is just about to make a rather rude remark about himself making it but not the latter (he's often cranky from studying) when a familiar voice chimes in.

"Honestly, though. how many times did we tell you to study, again?" 

The two shriveled up raisins on the ground don't even have to look at their third roommate to greet him. "Oh Seungmin, just shut up!" Felix moans, stuffing his face into a nearby pillow. "We all know your genius brain can get you into whatever school you want." 

Ah.

Now that's definitely an ego-booster.

The red-haired teen gives his fellow friends a pleased smile, setting the numerous grocery bags he carried in onto the kitchen counter. He places his hands on his hips and tugs the corners of his lips up into a smirk. "It's hard to believe you two are older then me. especially since I've skipped some grades," corking his head to felix, he adds, "looks like I won't be seeing you on the JYP dance team anytime soon."

Felix normally would've gasped, but he's far too dead for that. So instead, he and Jisung curse the younger's intelligence as their brains are not in proper condition to form a defense. "Whatever, Min," Jisung says tiredly. He doesn't have the energy to argue back today. If it were any other time, his mouth'd already be blabbing its daily exercise.

The moon is awfully dim outside, but the inside of their cozy house is lit by a few warm-colored candles. The boys found it relaxing and quieter this way, scents of holiday joy filling their nostrils and relaxing their brains. (Besides, those things were cheap this time of year.) 

This results in Seungmin double checking labels and drawers in the dark as he puts things away, to make sure he isn't misplacing any groceries. (Once Jisung was so tired he didn't even realize he poured coffee into his cereal.) By the time he's done, he has come to the decision to be oh-so generous (for once), and blesses his friends' study session with his presence. Despite his best friends' vocal complaints and rude remarks, he keeps himself in place, knowing that deep down they appreciate his assistance.

After a few minutes of more studying, Jisung breaks the silence. "Hey, Min," he pipes up, circling an answer option to a problem he knows he did wrong, "was the entrance exam easy?"

The young man almost bursts into laughter. "Well it depends on the person, doesn't it? I passed with nearly perfect marks so I, myself, believe it's not too challenging," he boasts with a cocky tone. Seungmin accepts the knowing nod (and eye roll) from Felix but when his gaze lands on a deflated Jisung, his eyes soften. He tries to retract his words. "Don't worry, though... Knowing you two, you'll be fine." His voice is sweet and soft.

Seungmin beams, a rare sight for anyone who hasn't built a strong bond with him like the latter two have. Felix's first friends were these Seungmin and Jisung when he had moved from his hometown.

Jisung was first forced to hang out with him because of his mother's wishes, but he eventually began visiting on his own desire. As for Seungmin, he was a lonely underclassman who bumped up a grade, thus having no friends. However, Felix is the nicest kid on the block. They're the perfect match.

The years of trust they have are stronger than anything that's been thrown at them, and regardless of the way Seungmin acts outside of their small group, he always looks up to his two hyungs, genius or not. All of his threats and glares are thrown out the window when seungmin's with Jisung and Felix. They're almost like his tamers (though of course, they'd never compare Seungmin to some wild beast... most of the time.)

Jisung notices seungmin growing soft, a bit pleased by his friend's endearing actions, and suddenly tackles his two brothers in a hug, squishing his cheeks against their faces with a grin. Felix immediately complains, but the equally large smile on his face tells Jisung that he can continue. "You're so heavy!" Seungmin yells, hitting Jisung's head. The said male doesn't seem to care, because he continues to hug his friends like they're the most precious things in the world.

And to him, they are.

The rest of the night is filled with attention-lacked studying, talks about movies and superheroes, and the resonating laughter in the season of fall.

 

-

 

Loud echoing steps bounce off of curved emerald halls, electrifying the space with a suffocating tone. The producer of this din is practically scowling, and if he wasn't known for his resting bitch face, he'd probably get into many fights due to misunderstandings. His shimmering black hair is cut in a fringe, two piercings in one ear and a matching chain in the other, while his body is clad in familiar, navy blue. He halts at a large wooden door, and with "luck on his side", he gets spotted.

"Changbin, late again?" a low voice rings. The pierced boy inwardly curses, entering without a word of acknowledgment.

Woojin shakes his head, continuing to tap his finger on folded arms. Believing that the boy hasn't heard enough of his relentless nagging, he scolds on, "you'll get kicked out if you don't clean yourself up."

Changbin scoffs to say 'as if.' "I don't. I never wanted to join in the first place," he claims, "if it wasn't for you and Hyunjin," Changbin pauses to narrow his eyes at the said boy who was leaning back in a chair, "I wouldn't be here." At the bitter remark, the eldest sighs, simply gesturing him to take a seat among the others in the small unused classroom.

The room is large, but tightly closed due to the unpacked boxes around the room. Cardboard is stacked along every wall except for the large bookshelf to the far right, which Changbin can remember cleaning up beforehand. Prior to usual standards, a teacher's desk sits at the corner of the room in front of the board, and smaller students' ones are sprinkled across the floor in an uneven manner. This unlikely room had become home to the first and many following meetings for the almighty student council.

"As you know, entrance exams begin in a little more than a month, which means that new students will be arriving. They will have exceptional talents they're taking with them." Woojin's brown eyes graze over his younger classmates. "We have open spots, on this council, and believe me, they will be filled."

Hyunjin yawns, finding Woojin's monologue to be the most boring thing in the universe. "And? What do you want us to do?"

Woojin glares, appalled that a younger student would act so disrespectful to one older. But, he continues nonetheless. "I need you guys to help me find students with the best capabilities to help us thrive."

He locks eyes with Changbin. "We are the control center of this school. They treat us like we're 'superior students' like 'royalty.'" He traces his hand across a wooden table, and his eyes flitter down to see dust. "If we play our cards right," he flicks the specks away, "we can form this school for the better." 

Hyunjin makes a low scoff. "Yeah, that's what your dad would say too."

And at that, Woojin stops. Hyunjin- no, everyone knew to never mention Woojin's father. Headmaster Kim holds many many secrets, and Woojin happened to be one of them.

The tall male stares deep into Hyunjin's blank onyx eyes, and the younger stares back without falter, before handing him a sudden wink. "Just kidding." With slightly lazy posture, Hyunjin stands up, dispersing rising suspense, and pats the president on the back. He knew to choose his battles. "No need to get worked up," he shrugs with a smile. "I'll take my leave now if there's nothing more to do," he announces carelessly. "I've got a date and I can't leave my dearest m'lady waiting."

"Says the hoe," Changbin mutters. He had been listening to music through his headphones the whole time, only stopping when he saw the tension in Woojin's shoulders.

Hyunjin winks again. "You're not wrong."


	2. 02. bitches and tour guides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got so much support already i’m 🥺💞💘💖💋💌🌿🌷🍉💘 MWAH

"AH IT'S HIM!"

"That boy?"

"He's pretty cute, right?"

Yang Jeongin: Sixteen years old and the renowned prodigy of JYP Academy. Rumors about him spread faster than girls' (and boys') legs for Hwang Hyunjin.

Jeongin was born into a family of rogue royalty, Jeongin is poor and got a full ride scholarship, he's dating famous singer, Bang Yedam, Jeongin came out as gay two years ago—the rumors can go on and on, but nothing would come close to being as accurate as the most popular word about the brace-faced boy:

Yang Jeongin is a bitch.

Who couldn't agree more?

"It's too bad he's so snarky."

He is, to say the least, blunt. His baby face leads to many assumptions until he opens his mouth. Jeongin disregards all human compassion and emotion, often times holding a stone cold stare. No one has ever seen him smile, which is one reason why he's Mr. unapproachable.

A second reason, is the fact that he's so meticulously inclined with his grades that he can almost always be found in the library with a book. Though that doesn't seem like much, try almost plotting the death of a student who barely brushed his shoulder in the middle of his studying.

A final third reason, may be his germaphobia, or his excessive and rather violent, oral fights with his teachers regarding their qualifications to teach him, (those usually stretch to twenty minutes max, and resolve in him testing out of the course for the semester). Then again there's the fact that he openly shares his loathing for his "unnecessary classmates," and the overall school system.

These are all catalysts for retreating from him every time he's in the hallways. A forest of students choose suicide, tree-falling out of the way as soon as the metaphorical bulldozer that is Jeongin heads in their direction, and right now, that's exactly what's happening.

The brown-haired teen casually heads to his next class with a bag slung over his shoulder. Down to the last thread, the brunet's uniform is in pique condition. His dark blue blazer fits his shoulder length like a glove, and the way his tie was done allows him to mirror a businessman. Truly Jeongin-like of him.

As soon as he enters the room, everyone abandons their comfortable gabs. The silence is unnervingly awkward, but Jeongin is used to it by now. Years of colleagues of his parents sizing him up and constant supervision of butlers and maids are major factors in his talent of ignoring others. Besides, people who can't evince high efficiency are worthless: that's how Jeongin sees it. In addition to the strict teachings of his estate, he was taught to put a higher value on humans who showed promise and potential. Those sort of skills were honed with the practice of releasing previously stated subordinates as he wished.

Ignoring the blatant stares of his peers (but, again, Jeongin wouldn't dream of putting himself in their lot), he takes a seat in the far right column on the middle row. Just the right amount of sunlight, just close enough to the back, and far away from the irritatingly loud students who usually occupied the back row.

Unnoticed by the brunet, a certain pretty-faced boy keeps his eyes on him quite a bit longer than the average student. He observes the diligent way the shorter male unpacks his pencil pouch and arranges his writing utensils into perfectly straight columns. He also observes the (cute) way his nose scrunches when a pen or pencil rolls out of place.

"Hey, Hyunjin, are you even listening to me?" a voice suddenly says.

Hyunjin hums quickly in attempt to cover up the way his eyes scrambled to his friend's from the nest-freak-boy's. "Y-yeah... Soccer tryouts, right?"

Minho sighs, rolling his eyes. "Not even close. You've been zoning out lately, what's with that."

What's Hyunjin going to tell him, that he's been ogling the school's famous bitch? With a mask of false confidence, the ravenette blurts out, "Didn't you get another confession this week? What's that, like the fifth one of the month?"

Luckily, he takes the bait.

"I haven't been counting," Minho groans, dropping his head onto folded arms. "But God... How many times do I have to say I'm asexual?"

The latter shrugs. "I mean, I don't know. You are a hottie, even if you ain't Hwang Hyunjin," he smirks.

"Oh yeah," Minho purrs, "no one will ever live up to our Prince." The cat-lover doesn't fail to pop his 'Ps' as Hyunjin cringed. God, did he hate that nickname.

"Okay, but for real, isn't like 1% of the population asexual or something?" he tries to recall. "Maybe you're wrong. There's nothing wrong with trying or changing your sexual identity."

The chocolate-eyed boy groans. "Oh Hyunjin, don't you think I've tried? You of all people remember my last relationship."

Hyunjin lets out a brief chuckle while playing back the fond memory of freshman year. It was quite the eventful double date. "I still can't believe you puked because a girl kissed you with her tongue."

Minho feels filthy just by thinking about the whole scenario. "IT WAS DISGUSTING AND I'M NEVER DOING THAT SHIT AGAIN."

His best friend lifts up his hands in defense. "Hey, I'm just saying. You never know."

"Except, I do know, Hyunjin," starts Minho, "I've been asexual for a whopping seventeen years, and as far as I'm concerned, I've never felt any feelings for a woman." He adds a fake gag at the mention of a female.

"But have you ever thought that maybe..." Hyunjin trails off.

Minho's milky brown eyes flicker in curiosity at the last hanging word. "That maybe...?"

The bell rings as Hyunjin's on the verge of opening his mouth, and he's forced to turn around in his seat to face the teacher.

His friend is left with a cliffhanger, which, we all know the inpatient Minho can't handle. But he sucks it up because their third period is math, and Mr. Song is not a character to test. Resolving, he waits for their scheduled dance time. Minho bets it all can wait.

 

-

 

By the time 3:10 is rolling in, soccer-captain senior, Bang Chan, is navigating through the swarms of busy to-be-undergraduates. He had made plans with a certain duo of "fresh meat" a few days ago, and they agreed upon the idea of Chan giving them a tour before they suddenly arrive in the middle of the first week of school. When a familiar head of blonde hair can be spotted from within the ocean of dark browns and blacks, Chan yells out, "hey Felix!"

On cue, a ripple of gold twirls around and waves a small hand. "Chris!"

When the oldest finally manages to push his way through the crowd, not forgetting to exchange 'excuse me's, he breaks out in a dimpled grin. "Well, how are we feeling today?"

Squirrelly and all, Jisung steps out besides Felix and responds with what the human ear would describe as a whale cry. Except in Jisungnese, it'd be: "nervous, sick, horrible, and absolutely petrified."

Jisung gets three smacks to the back as comfort from the tallest Australian. His hair is more of a platinum blonde compared to Felix's rose gold. "It's not as bad as you think, Sungie. Trust me."

In all honesty, Chan could've written a five page essay on why JYP Academy isn't as bad as it appears, and Jisung would still be scared out of his (nonexistent) wits. At the moment, his hands are clammy—disgustingly so—and his bright red high-tops are shifting his weight to and fro anxiously.

There's two large, battling ropes inside his stomach forming a tightening knot of mixed agitation and excitement. Contrarily, this sort of excitement is the type of spark you get before riding a rollercoaster. Except, Jisung, the rider, has an irrational fear of heights, moving vehicles, and the outside world. 

Felix grabs his best friend's hand in reassurance and supplies a light squeeze. "Come on, Jisung! High school's going to be amazing. We worked our asses off for this shit! We can't let it all go to waste!"

In other words, Jisung's quickly reminded that he does have Felix. After all, life isn't a one passenger ride.

Finally, the inseparable duo shadow their brotherly escort, and begin to buckle up for a new rollercoaster in life: high school.

 

-

 

"What the actual fUCK is this school so big for?" Felix is draped over one of the school's benches, letting his chest heave lightly. "Our old school's not even half of this palace." Jisung's even more tired, and opts out of using savored energy to even nod.

JYP Academy was designed in a format similar to a typical college (an extremely large one, at that.) There's several buildings that make up the school which are all connected by many outdoor hallways and window-walled bridges. Each building is assigned its own specific subject of study. One might be the arts, another could be sports. The only exception to these labeled buildings, is the 'Zero Building.' The 'untalented' and 'unnecessary' students, as a certain bitch would say, that barely made JYP's cut.

Whilst overlooking the fallen teenagers, Chan erupts into laughter. He subconsciously finds himself reminiscing his own first experience at the school. He was just like them: anticipating the worst, and just trying his best to survive. Past-Chan's only wish was to have someone to help guide him and explain all the ins-and-outs he yet to understand. This want lead him to the two very boys in front of them, and their hyung is hopeful. Hopeful that their journey here develops into a tale they'll treasure for the rest of their lives.

"Come on," Chan cheers while waving a hand in the direction of their next visit, "I think you'll love this one."

With a heavy exhale, his two younger brothers hop up and continue their last trip of coursing the oldest's footsteps.

When the three arrive at a modern-looking building, Felix nearly allows his jaw to sink into the ground. "THIS ENTIRE THING IS A DANCE STUDIO?!" he exclaims after double-checking the scathed, metal sign about sixteen times.

In spite of Jisung not being as fond of dancing as the youngest Australian, he did have to admit that even for JYP Academy, this big of a building for one sole activity is way overt the top.

Chan casually strolls up to the front doors and gives that signature wink of his. "The whole thing," he slurs. "If you're going to be the best at something, you'll need to have the best place to practice."

"Well duh, obviously," Felix deadpanns, "but this? This is more than a place to practice! This is... This is-"

"Like a studio for elites?" Chan provides.

That's Felix's thoughts precisely. The whole place is like his dream come true. From the freshly washed floors, the perfect degree of sunlight from the windows, and the scent of pine cones, everything's just perfect.

To justify his awe, it is fair to say nothing would ever compare to his passion for dancing. Growing up, he would use his art to express the words he couldn't form (and not just because he couldn't speak Korean well.) Even today, ever step, hand flick, and roll of the body played an important role in his routines. If the movement didn't serve a purpose than why is it there? How can it be improved? That's the inside process of choreographer, Lee Felix.

"I knew you'd like it," says Chan with the same grin he's been offering all day. "Let's head upstairs. There's someone I want you to meet."


	3. 02: first encounter

"DON'T TELL me Changbin is late again," Woojin hisses to himself. He's impatiently tapping his foot, and by the looks of it: fuming. Desk upon desk, the meeting room always looks unused. But at the moment—when it should be used—it looks even more empty in his brown eyes. They (Changbin and Woojin) had scheduled this meetup weeks ago. Today would be the day the council would finally pick through the candidates for, well, the council.

The President checks his watch again. Hyunjin has obligations with the dance team, but Woojin is certain Changbin has a completely clean schedule. Frowning and listening to emo rap is literally. All. He. Does.

Ten minutes past 3:30, the awaited man shows up.

"Do you think I have all day?" Woojin voices. "What could be so important that you had me waiting?"

Changbin clicks his tongue. "Relax, Pres." A growing want to ask the for the reason why he talks like Shakespeare's long lost brother stabs at his chest. However, Changbin wants to live a few more years. "It ain't that deep," he mutters while rubbing his finger through his ear. Unsanitary.

The former irks, irritated. Partially because he doesn't really understand what 'it' is and what 'deep' even means. A light toss sends several photos and records of students in one tight black binder onto the counter, "evaluate them."

Some way or another, the short two word phrase translates to, "work now and do so wisely or there will be consequences." And perhaps it's because of his habit to have such a careless attitude that Changbin heaves a waterfall of sighs. Each breath crashes within each other as they reach their producer's ears.

The brunet and the black-haired boy truly have a unique relationship. The eldest tries to stay as business-related as possible in almost every conversation both within and outside of council walls. "How was your day?" though, is in fact a question that pops up every now and then. Unlike common opinion about the son of the almighty headmaster, Woojin has more of heart than most people. He gives respect to those who deserve it, he stands up for what he believes in, and he has morals. The only flaw in Kim Woojin is his undeniable ability to oppose his father. But, we'll get to that another day.

Skimming through papers, the ravenette huffs. "Most of these guys aren't too impressive."

"I know right." A breath is sucked in. "This batch is far less... intriguing than last years."

"I'll say..." Continuing through the packet of pamphlets, a bold lettered name catches a twinkle in dark, brown eyes.

"Yang Jeongin?" Changbin muses, his adam's apple above the other's shoulder. "You think you'd be able to rope him into this place?" The concept is comical; the most snarky, inconsiderate, bitchy student in all of JYP Academy working practically community service for the very people he despises. It's a headline comedy show, really.

Woojin smacks his friend's head with one of the many pamphlets. "Oh shut up, already. You never know." He pulls Jeongin's profile arms away from Changbin's grasp to take a closer look. "He has it all. Good grades and he always ranks top in overall standardized tests. He's an all rounder, does music, and performs well in P.E.. You can't tell me he's not perfect."

"But I can say he's a fucking pain in the ass."

The president rolls his eyes, but they unintentionally catch another candidate. "Who's this?"

The parallel pair of eyes fall down onto light, blonde hair and brown eyes. Coffee drop freckles are printed onto the profile like a speckled quill's egg. Thin cheeks, but thick eyebrows. Woojin hums, "Lee Felix. Australian." His curiosity is piqued.

"And what about this one," the other student suggests as he hands over the pamphlet of 'Kim Seungmin.' Woojin once again smiles. But it isn't the cute one that has girls fawning over him and getting guppy-eyed. No, this one hides a seeping smoke of poison, an intent to solidify and bring down a hammer of complete order, a horrible wish and an impossible reality.

One that makes Changbin's empty-eyed facade shatter.

He returns to his usual blank stare once again quickly. Hiding his fear for the older is quite the wise personal choice, and Woojin does the same to his now composed features. He sorts through the students once more, and picks up a few while doing so. Leveling his newly made pile with a click, the brunet forces a small smile to his underclassmen.

"You're dismissed."

 

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

 

"Someone to meet?" Felix questions, "like who?"

Chan smirks knowingly. "Someone who gave you a good word." 

Neither Felix nor Jisung can piece together his words. What is he implying? That they didn't just get into the school because of their hard work? For some reason, the idea isn't too offensive. In truth, Felix would be grateful for the mentioned person. It wouldn't be surprising that he had additional help. The school's already proved its immense worth. He's already been more than convinced to attend their first day of school.

Chan then leads the two underclassmen upstairs, Jisung awing at the intricate designs of the railing.  
Dance studios are consistently practical, as it's necessary to have enough space and the proper equipment to train. JYP Academy somehow made it possible to have an element of elegance within the necessities. Mirrors stretch along the entire right and left walls, the adjacent one having a large cutout semicircle window. Jisung never thought he'd ever call a dance studio of all things beautiful. But this one is. The intricate pillars attaching to the stairs contained hand-carved flowers and vines that remind the loudmouth of Pixie Hollow. Hell, even the doorknobs are high class.

When the trio get to the second floor, they're introduced to loud shouting. Felix's ears perk up at the familiar song in the background and he hungrily shoots his eyes towards the mob of dancers. Their movements are sharp and precise. Not one of them misses a beat. But Chan pulls the sleeve of Felix's hoodie, disappointedly yanking him to the third floor.

The blonde's brows raise. "This isn't what you wanted to show me?" 

The eldest abruptly waves to the irritated dance instructor at the front of a halted crowd of sweaty teens and dripping water bottles. She isn't too happy to have interruptions when competition season is rolling around the corner. Chan makes a mental note to apologize to Ryujin later. "No no," he hurriedly says while taking a step up, "I have a feeling you don't necessarily like that kind of drill-sergeant dancing." He lowers his voice in hopes a certain 'sergeant' won't kill him. On cue, the mob starts up again with piercing "ONE! TWO! THREE AND FOUR! FASTER-"

Jisung's already at the top of the steps with slumped shoulders. "It's just another dance studio!" he whines, back facing a replica of the wall of mirrors on the previous floors. He steps back carelessly. "Can't we go to the music department or something? Felix can just stay-"

"HEADS UP!"

Midway through a twist, the pouty brunet is suddenly a moving target. The ammunition? An unopened water bottle. 

Jisung slams into the ground after losing his balance and his shooter is already at his side. "Ouch... are you okay?" 

The latter rolls his eyes. He rubs the back of his head as well as his now bruised butt. "I don't know, can you aim?"

Laughter follows. "Yeah, Hyunjin, can you aim?" another voice cuts in.

The boy on the floor cranks his head back to see a charming nose mole, milky eyes, and an extended hand. "Lee Minho," 'cute laugh boy' offers, helping Jisung up. 

"J-jisung," the latter stutters out.

Felix mentally groans. Only Han Jisung can hop crushes to crushes this fast. The short boy has a talent for finding cute boys, sucking up to them for a week or so, before finding another cute boy, and repeating the same process. Felix never objects to his actions, though, as Jisung never experiences real heartbreak. It's more of a wave of disappointment finding out that your crush of two, measly days already has a girlfriend or boyfriend. His best friend knew better to get attached. Furthermore, the freckled boy is curios as to why the Han did allow his heart be so flexible. On the contrary, is it even really his heart at all?

"I'm Felix!" the blonde interrupts. Googly-eyed Jisung doesn't shift his gaze.

"And I'm sooo sorry, again," a dancer, from the looks of his sweaty appearance, apologizes once more. A charming mole is placed under his eye, and he has a set of thick lips that look slightly torn. Felix gives it to him, he's gorgeous.

The youngest Australian in the room guesses stubborn Jisung has been put in a state of euphoria due to Minho, because he quickly smiles to brush the past incident off. "Nah, don't worry about it! Accidents happen!"

God, here we go again.

"You sure?" repeats the dancer, "I truly didn't mean to hit you. I was trying to hit that penguin headass over there." A glare's sent in the direction of the 'penguin headass.'

A hand is placed on the charming boy's shoulder. "Jisung takes harder hits than that. He can barely walk by himself. Don't sweat it, Hyunjin," Chan teases from behind. As soon as his hand touches the newly identified (and sweaty) boy, he retracts it without delay. "Or sweat it! God! What were you two doing up here?"

"Dancing," Minho scoffs as he gestures around the studio. "Look where we are."

Chan wipes his hand on his khakis. "Fair enough, but didn't you bring a water bottle to cool off or something?"

A finger snaps to Jisung's throbbing head and the owner of said finger deadpans, "they did."

His best friend laughs besides him but Hyunjin's face morphs into remorse. "I'm really sorry, again. Can I make it up to you?"

At the same time Jisung's midway through rejecting the offer, Chan slides in front of his underclassmen. "Yes, actually. You can!" He grins. "You see, Jisung and Felix are starting as freshmen here tomorrow, and it'd be great if you guys had time to tell them about the school at the café....?" The proposed favor sounds more like a question. 

"Just say you want free food and go," Felix murmurs. Everyone here's him though, and everyone bursts into laughter.

"Alright," Hyunjin giggles. "I want to meet the famous Lee Felix."

 

Felix is seated near the far back of the cafe. If he's to be honest, he really didn't have much to say about the place. Their are average orangey lights, average booths, average decor, average everything. The place seemed overhyped. When Chan, Minho, and Hyunjin meet up with them with a tray of glossy deserts and sugary drinks, Felix is positive that his hypothesis is correct. He takes one bite. The food is bland.

"Why do you even like this place so much?" the blonde gags in disgust. "This tastes like shit." He says the last part in English and as a result, 'Chris' laughs too.

"We have a lot of memories with this place," Chan sighs, "It's not everyday your waiter dumps a whole pot of ice tea on you." 

Hyunjin groans. "IT WAS ONE TIME!"

The fond smile on Felix's face says it all: "I'm so glad Chris has friends like these, friends that make him just this happy." For as long as Felix has known the older boy, he's been selfless to the point where he forgets to take care of himself. The freckled boy recalls the night of his first heartbreak, and how Chan drove all the way to his house just to hug him. Or even farther back to when he had first moved to Korea. During his big move, Felix couldn't speak Korean in the slightest. But Chan would always slow down his talking or help him read syllables, even serving as a translator. It makes Felix feel both reassured and simply happy to know he's in good hands. It makes him want friends like that too, Jisung not included.

"Or when the same waiter asks for your number, only to find out you're asexual," adds Minho.

Jisung stops chewing on his cookies when he hears that. "Wait wait wait... You're asexual?" Crumbs are sticking to the corner of his filled cheeks, and the way his wide eyes sparkle reminds Minho of the ocean. Waves collide and furrow against each other all while gliding under the rising sun. "He has pretty eyes," Minho thinks.

"An ace, that's me," the brunet chuckles.

The ocean's sun sets.

"Anywho," Felix starts, stretching out his 'oos', "you mentioned that I'm, quote on quote, famous?" he questions the charming 'prince' across from him.

"God, if you heard the way Chan talks about you..." he takes a spoonful of caramel-glazed vanilla pudding into his mouth. Savoring every dissolving sugar is a process he subconsciously partakes in. "I swear to Headmaster Kim I've seen literally any and every dance cover or freestyle you've ever done."  Minho follows up with a, "for real!"

The eldest punches Hyunjin a bit too hard (half out of embarrassment and half just for the fun of it.) "Oh pipe down. It's not like you don't brag about Seungmin every two seconds."

"He's literally my best friend."

"Felix is mine too?"

Jisung and Minho gasp. "Then what am I?"

Amidst the four half-standing boys, Felix starts to bubble. Everyone has to look over at him now, his eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks and mouth wide and jolly. Capturing the star boy's moments of joy is an experience you can't miss out on. Contagious and all, the four others chorus in a jingle of their own. 

 

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

 

"Is this all?" a low demanding tone inquires.

Woojin bows. "Yes sir. I picked them all out with much thought and evaluation. Other members of the council did their research as well."

The voice hums, seemingly satisfied. "Good work." A low rumbling snicker follows his next sentence.

"But, the real job starts now."


	4. 03. a story of the past

( soccer is football for non-americans djsj )

RIPPED COTTON was stretched across monotonous skies overhead JYP Academy. The sky was a mirror of reflections of stretched out ghosts, all manufactured by unnecessary money-hungry factories, and beneath it all, a soccer field (the academy's) was ripe in its top form, layers of light green smacked upon rich soil.

A familiar blond-haired boy was up at these ungodly hours, along with frozen soccer balls parallel to him. There was sweat trickling down his sideburns, and an enflamed passion dripping from his chocolate eyes. His faded red cleats wore slashes of dirt and what looked like blood (most likely from the time SM Academy's players accidentally cleated him. It wasn't even during the game, though. Yuta had just tripped over his ankle after being pushed by Xuxi.) Chan rushed towards each ball, and took strong swings at each one, the sphere spiraling up into a grand arch, and lastly tumbling into the top corners of the net.  
       Every hit he took sent a dose of surging adrenaline throughout his body; that was the rush of the sport he craved for—the feeling of cool air racing into your face like a stampede of beautiful black horses, or the thrill of fast-paced and unpredictable plays from new opponents.

God, he loved it.

A boy clothed more formally in a navy uniform was watching him from the frigid bleachers, accompanied by a torn messenger bag. He was slightly shorter, but by the color of his tie, vermillion, he appeared to be the same age as the player. The smallest of smiles played on his lips.

"Practicing hard, Bang?" the boy asked while standing up. He patted the hitchhiking dirt off of his pants.

The blond, Bang Chan, turned his head with a cocky grin at the voice while panting heavily. His breath clashed against the cold morning air.

"That I am, Kim," Chan replied, punctuating his sentence with a lighter kick of the final ball. He passed it to Woojin.

The brunet instinctively ramped the ball onto the laces of his shoes, juggling it up to his knee. He continuously snapped it upwards before catching it between his fingertips. Smooth. Woojin tossed the orb into Chan's (veiny) arms, who then gave that signature smirk of his. (The one that makes girls fall for the striker.) "You're a bit rusty, Wooj," teased the soccer player.

'Wooj' scoffed, taking taunting steps forward. "Yeah?" Woojin hummed, rolling the ball in one hand easily, "does the soccer team's captain think he could score more goals than a seasoned professional like me?" An elegant hand was up against his chest to imitate a rich aristocrat.

Chan's feet brung him centimeters away from the shorter boy. "Trust me," he almost whispered. For a second their hearts connected through their gazes and Woojin swore he felt his heart skip a beat. The blond leaned into his ear, "when it comes to getting my balls in, I never fail."

Woojin chucks the soccer ball at his fool of a boyfriend's stomach for the inappropriate joke before he can even process what's happening. He's much stronger than Chan thought.

The Australian landed with the grace of a dumbbell, plopping painfully into the ground. In between choking and dying, he managed to shoot back a, "you know it's true."

"I am so breaking up with you," Woojin moaned exasperatedly, pushing his temple. How did he keep up with this dumbass' headassary?

He didn't.

The brunet suddenly recalled why he had stopped the blond's individual training in the first place. He checked the silver watch on his wrist, eyes glazed with frost. "Class starts in two," stated he, "if we don't want to be late you better hurry." They had developed an assortment of routines for the morning: Either 1. Chan would wait to accompany Woojin to school 2. Woojin has student council meetings early and the two go their separate ways or 3. This troublesome situation with a difficult Chan.

Said problem child was on his back now, hands behind his neck contently, seemingly gazing at the blobs of polluted white called clouds. His eyes were cheery crescents, and he directed their glow towards Woojin. "Can't we just stay here for a bit?" he whines. He really hasn't had much time with his boyfriend lately. Besides, anything was better than Mr. Song's unbelievably boring tones and lectures.

The latter sighed. As much as he'd love that sort of luxury, he was student council president, a role-model to all. Skipping would be a criminal in his world of rules. "You know we can't just-"

He was tugged into the grass before he could finish, strong arms snaking around his waist. Scents of freshly cut grass and B.O. bombarded his nostrils on cue. "Gross! You smell like sweat!" the brunet exclaimed in disgust with a scrunched noise, "Jesus how long have you been here."

"Definitely not as long as I think about you," Chan slurred cheesily. He thought buttering him up might just work—it did.

Woojin hated how he blushed, and sputtered out a flustered, "shut up," before pressing his face away from his boyfriend's (firm) chest. He never has fought victoriously against Chan's flirtatiousness. "We really need to get going." He took another sniff of the air. "And you need a shower," he fake gagged.

On deaf ears, the soccer captain proceeded to adjust himself over the smaller boy, that mentioned irking smirk teasing him. "What if I don't want to?" His voice was singsongy and testing. 

Woojin stayed unbothered and rolled his eyes. Was he really testing him at five a.m.? Captain Obvious deadpanned, "then you'll be late." To which, Chan had ignored his sarcasm, and begun to close the gap between them. Gay panic struck Woojin before the blush did on his cheeks.

"H-hey—we really need to go, Chan." His voice was soaked with nervousness.

An inch.

"Seriously!"

Five centimeters.

"Christopher Bang, I swear to god."

Two.

"Ch-"

Zero.

Chan's lips were already pressed against the Kim's, whose soft pair was reluctant to respond. Woojin's lips were small. They were small but that was probably what the Australian loved the most about them. They were easy to fit into his own mouth, and had this smoothed out texture he adored ruining. Out of frustration in the lack of action, the blond pushed harder and bit the bottom of his boyfriend's lip, slowly moving in a rhythmic motion. Finally, the latter kissed back, hesitance laced in each movement. Woojin couldn't believe he might be late because of this (hot) idiot.

Their mixed warmth competed with the wintry surroundings that made them feel an intensified heat. A pool of euphoria built inside both of them; one that only hormonal teenage boys could feel.

Woojin was the first to pull away and breathed against Chan's neck, "you know, you're rusty too. Just, not at soccer." His boyfriend's smirk read it all: "is that a challenge?"

Woojin couldn't even pick out the moment he had given in to the soccer player's dumb metaphorical games and let him win. He guessed that it could've been the time Chan had screamed out his name during the sport's festival as a tribute for his injured leg or the time the two of them ate their ice cream reward for cleaning out the pool on the rooftops of the school, singing songs and talking about their futures.

The two smiled against each other's mouths in bliss, and both silently wished that that happiness lasts forever—that their happiness together lasts forever.

Oh—how foolish they were.

 

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

 

Problem upon problem, Han Jisung is facing the biggest bully in all of JYP Academy. Although the lunch room is crowded with both noise and people, he has to face this monster solo-mode. The only gear he has equipped is a two star number two pencil and one of those flimsy pink erasers that can't even serve their purpose (you know, the horrid ones that leave pink smears.) What is this dreaded beast, you ask? Mrs. Rhea's AP math class. He's literally only had one class with the phantasmagorical teacher, and he's already certain she despises him.

To be fair, Jisung was late, but that result was an outcome of Felix's tedious obsession with jelling his hair perfectly. (He's very meticulous about getting the "Jackson Wang Look.") So it wasn't entirely his fault. Chan may argue otherwise, though. As Jisung had been trying to squeeze in an extra gym medal on his DS. Pokémon ruby.

A red lunch tray slides next to his workbook. "How are you doing, Jisung?" a pearly voice questions.

It's Hyunjin.

"Mentally or physically?" Jisung says flatly, because frankly he wants to die. How on Earth do parents think students don't have anything to be stressed about?

Hyunjin fears the wrath of an angsty teenager. "Both...?" is his cautious reply.

"I'm as well as a stressed-out pubescent boy could ever be." He face-plants into a page of problems (both literally and figuratively.) "What does the school want from me?!" If it isn't obvious enough, Jisung feels very very shitty.

The ravenette pats his back sympathetically as Felix slides into the seat across from the two along with Chan. His tray has today's lunch, a sloppy sandwich, some carrots, a chocolate milk carton, and what looked like pudding with granola crumbs. "Math?" he asks, not needing to analyze the pages.

Jisung whines tiredly, "In the dumb fucking flesh."

Chan doesn't approve of such attitude from a "youngster." "Language, young man."

Jisung repeats his words in English sassily with an exaggerated and horrible attempt of an Australian accent, and Hyunjin snorts while Felix looks offended.

"We do not sound like that," he gasps.

Hyunjin pops an eyebrow. "Oh sure you don't."

Hyunjin gets kicked in both shins.

"Are we bullying Hyunjin without me?" A new body, Minho, inquires, filling in another chair at their table. He has a fake pout on his lips.

The 'victim' is guarding his shins protectively, knees tucked into his chest, while sipping his apple juice. "I literally breathed."

"Too loud. I can smell your breakfast from here," Felix remarks.

"Fuck you."

Chan slaps the table and jokingly yells, "just one lunch! One normal family lunch!"

Jisung feels his worries lift a bit as he laughs. One day doesn't seem like a lot to measure a friendship (though, in his opinion, time doesn't necessarily define one either) but he already feels at home with Hyunjin and Minho. All that's missing now is—

"Is this seat taken?"

Light red hair and circular frames, not to mention, that soft, cotton voice.

Felix and Jisung's new friends are about to welcome the boy in by respond with a "nope," when Felix kicks his legs up on the empty seat. "Sorry, this table's only for people who aren't bitches."

Minho's eyebrows knit together. "Hey, why are you being so ru-"

The red-haired boy scoffs. "Then why the fuck is Hyunjin here?"

"Again, I BREATHED," the prettyboy pipes up.

Before anymore immature protests arise into the lunch room of court, the navy pants of none other than Kim Seungmin quickly take place of Felix's torn-up Converse. He adjusts his specs atop his nose before huffing, "now that you two are here I won't be able to have anymore lunches in peace." Seungmin takes a small gulp of his water.

"Yeah?" Jisung stabs a carrott violently, "and because of you I won't be able to do my homework in peace," he spits, thoughts of Mrs. Rhea's horrid equations still not leaving his head. "There's no way I'm passing math this year," he mentally groans.

Though Minho's not foreign to playful clownery (surprise surprise), the brunet still offers a confused and worrying face. He questions if he's witnessing actual enemies or friends like Hyunjin and he.

Seungmin rolls his eyes. "I could literally help you since, I don't know, I took the class last year?" The attitude in his voice is coated in a lack of emotion, but the sass is definitely clear.

"Wait wait wait," cuts in Minho, finally tired with staying at the sidelines, "you all know each other?"

Chan and Felix nod in unison. The oldest of the two explains. "Seungmin dorms with these two," he gestures to Jisung and Lix, "and as for Hyunjin..."

"We had library aide together," the youngest supplies flatly. "He was and still remains to be the annoyingest little shit I've ever come across," adds Min while gnawing on his lunch.

Hyunjin nearly snaps his plastic spork. "LOOK HERE YOU-"

A gargling static suddenly screeches through the atrium and forces Hyunjin to sit respectfully. Students, likewise, drop their utensils to cover their ears. God, the school needs a new sound system.

The stumbling voice of freshman Shin Yuna nervously reads some flash cards aloud, her voice a bit muffled, "attention JYP Academy!" she exclaims way too loud, "can the following students please meet in room #428..."

Minho hums as he recalls a rusty memory of the student council meeting room. "What losers got dragged into that?" he mocks cockily. The dancer never was a man for authority. Yes, he goes to a debatably very official school jam-packed with all sorts of future officials and guidelines, but he also has his own agenda to life. Lee Minho loves adventure—the thrill of not knowing what happens next. He thrives on that feeling and cultivates it to the last drop. Maybe that's what makes him so popular among the students (or maybe it's just the talent and good looks.)

Shin Yuna is still stammering out as many names as she can in three second clusters, most likely oblivious to her amateurish sound which, no doubt, her upperclassmen will scold her on. Ten seconds further into the announcement (and ten seconds of everyone's heads turning to each listed name) a familiar two syllables is read: "Bang Chan."

Apple juice comes out of Hyunjin's nose not so subtly and onto Seungmin's pants ("this is why Hyunjins deserve no rights!"), and Minho chokes on his bread. Like a giant screw being given the final twist to cork into its spot, the entire school cranks their heads at the blonde. And by the awfully calm yet rigid features washed across his face, everyone's thoughts got sufficient evidence to prove a well known fact,

Bang Chan hates Kim Woojin.

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

 

HI,, it's me nd i wanted  
to say thank you for all  
of the love and support  
you guys are giving :(  
i've never been confident  
in my writing, or anything  
really tbh HDJSJ but you  
guys are making me feel  
vvv accepted with all  
of your comments! i   
absolutely love you guys  
thank you again <33

 

SCHOOL LIFE  
© HYUKAIS  
19.05.04.  
12:10 P.M.


	5. 04. recruitment

A LOUD SILENCE: that phrase perfectly describes the suffocating void hung upon each JYP student's head. No one is sure whether if they want to continue on with their day or continue to feed their idle minds with Bang Chan practically twitching in his seat.

He looks irritated, almost... offended?

Jisung, who doesn't know of social cues, resolves on blurting out loudly, "well aren't you going to go?"

The room takes in a breath.

And for a millisecond—just a fraction long enough for Felix to catch it—a glare spirals through Chan's eyes. Then, he smiles. "Yeah, sorry." He stands up, pushing his chair back. "I'll be back in a few," he force chuckles.

Minho gives his back a vague, knowing look and Felix just blatantly lets his thoughts bleed through his expression. "Chan has a problem with what?" he thinks.

Hyunjin coughs loudly to clear up the awkwardness, and perhaps feed Jisung's growing sulkiness from lack of attention. "He's a grown boy he can take care of himself," he states promptly, shoving a bite of his pudding down his throat. Minho half heartedly shrugs.

As Hyunjin opens his mouth to say something again, another screech interrupts the boys. "A-also Kim Seungmin!" the timid voice squeaks before shutting off the speakers with an obnoxious buzz.

While moans erupt from the tables (for their bloody ears), Hyunjin pops his eyebrow. "Seungmin?" he mentally questions, "why him too?" 

The red-haired student stands up while not-so-politely kicking Jisung's shin from under the table. "You're drooling," he teases, handing his sandwich over. The overgrown Tinkerbell had been eyeing it for a while. (He's Tinkerbell because just like her he'd probably die from lack of attention.) Min laughs to ease his friends. "Relax, guys. It's the student council, not a man-hungry lion." Seungmin's light grin is a bit too softening. He has that effect on people; being able to make them feel fuzzy and warm with his kindness. Felix guesses it's because he rarely shows such emotions so that when he does, it has emphasized importance.

Jisung scarfs down his newly obtained ham sandwich, crumbs collecting at the corner of his cheeks. "Hwave fwun Sungmean," the boy says, gulping.

The younger chooses to ignore his lack of manners (and notes to teach him some later) before tracking Chan's path.

Although both Hyunjin and Minho continue their meal and pick up their conversations, Felix can't help but worry.

Somethings definitely wrong.

 

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

 

Chan's legs are locked into place. Leaving the atrium and trekking a few tricky hallways was no problem for the senior. Neither is winning several awards for his athletic talent or academic achievements. But for some reason, opening a door is.

His gaze hovers over those three letters like a humming bird waiting to feed. "Room #428," he repeats in his head, "#428." The simple three digit number echoes in his mind until he finds himself lost inside the sound. "It's just a room," he tries to remind himself, "not some fancy gala." Why can't he just move?

Chris briefly clenches the silver knob of the entrance, still staring at the handle as if it'd open for him if he stood their long enough. But the longer he looks, the harder it becomes for him to twist it. Images of warm smiles and spilt koolaid flash through his mind, until suddenly that memory is replaced with blood. 

"Excuse me," a dull voice pipes. Chan whips his head around in surprise. Third year Yang Jeongin is glaring daggers into his eyes. He explains in a matter-of-factly-tone, "you're in the way."

Chan, who is surprised, wobbles out of the way. His head ducks automatically out of politeness and his eyes capture a flash of the younger's thick braces. Then, he practically screaming a "sorry."

Jeongin scoffs in annoyed amusement. "This is a waste of time," the boy mutters. The heavy soles of his shoes clamper after his ego.

Once the younger makes it through the doorway, Chan realizes who and what he just let make a mockery of him, a plain blue tie... A puny third year who should technically be a second year. Agitation washes over his features. Though Jeongin isn't just any third year, he's still younger not by one but two years. How could he be so informal? Or to be more accurate, how could Chan let him be so informal and get away with it?

(A/N: i don't use hyung and unnie etc. in my writing because it's easier for me to do it without them! i'm not very educated with the korean language and don't want to make mistakes trying, but i still keep the 'age and respect' aspect of many cultures!)

Chan's about to storm into the room and scold the boy when a pair of sharp, black dress shoes accompanied by a cough greet his back.

Large hands grab the doorknob faster than he can, and a plastic grin meets Chan's straightened lips.

"It's nice to see you," the 'stranger' says, "I'd like to make this meeting a quick one."

 

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

 

It's in fourth period, English, where Felix finally voices his concern. The blonde's currently across from Minho, the two of them supposedly planning a fake birthday party for their fake client, "Tony", which should be presented in a powerpoint. All their newly learned actions and vocab should also be included. But all the latter's been doing is abusing his access to the school's C.O.W. (computers on wheels) by playing some pointless online game. The chestnut locks of Minho's hair cover the tips of his brows, and his pencil is skewed between his teeth in concentration. Felix reminds himself to never ask the older if he can borrow a pencil.

Felix was able to skip English 2 and 3 because of his clear experience in the subject, allowing him to share a class with Minho. And popularity has always been a given for the older dancer, so there's no doubt that the cat-lover has more than enough potential project partners in his class. Even so, he finds Felix and himself to be a much preferred duo. (Plus, the blonde is fluent, which means he doesn't really have to try.)

The Australian finally breaks the silence. "Minho," he starts, hesitance laced in his voice, "I have a question."

That's rare. Especially since it's usually the other asking the former. "What is it?" the brunet inquires, still not looking up at the other. Suddenly, his dinosaur hits a cactus and Minho curses under his breath. The internet must be down.

"Does Chan have some sort of beef with the student council?" Felix cuts straight to the point.

At his sudden outburst, the brunet leans back in his chair. "Beef?" he repeats mildly. The four lettered word escapes his lips sourly. "It's a bit more than 'beef', Felix." Two clicks. He started his game over again.

"...Well?" The blonde slurs impatiently, raising his voice. A few productive students shoot him a glare. Felix lowers his voice appropriately. "What is it? Can't you tell me?"

Like Harry Potter, Minho pulls out and waves the chewed remains of his pencil like a wand. His eyes are blank but his voice is demanding. "Felix, it's just best to leave this here."

"How come?" the younger asks, desperate. "I saw the way you and Hyunjin were looking at Chan. Something's wrong. Just tell me, please."

The dancer doesn't have to spare a look at him to answer flatly, "no, Lix."

"I'll literally do anything! Anything at all!" the blonde begs.

Minho adjusts his utensil back into the walls of his teeth. "No, this isn't your problem." His voice rises in irritation and urges his patience to run thinner.

"AHA! So it is a problem!"

Minho can't believe this kid and almost snaps his pencil in half by gritting so hard. He's baffled that Lix could even be so persistent on a subject that he's clearly not having. How does he have to put it to make the boy understand that no surprisingly enough, means NO.

"Felix, my answer is NO. It's none of your business so stay out of it!" Minho abruptly hisses.

"That's such B.S. I've known Chan for even longer than you have. I have a right to know!"

"Yeah? If you're so close then why don't you ask him yourself."

"I would've if—"

"Mr. Lee," a sleek voice interrupts. Mr. Lee—or the two Mr. Lees look up nervously at their teacher.

The youngest Lee is the first to save them both from her spleen-splitting glare. "Y-yes, ma'am?"

"Detention is at 3:15."

Minho's the next to save them by cutting off Felix's protests before they're said. Sometimes it's better to keep tweets in the drafts, other times it's better to keep a Lee Felix shutup for good.

 

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

 

Room #428 is exactly as Chan remembered it. It still has the same large window panes and creaky, wood floors. Every globe and unused pile of history books down to the last spec of dust are in their correlating positions. If he were in a different situation, the soccer player might have smiled fondly. Alas, the combination of president Kim Woojin's towering gaze and murmuring (gossiping) students do not permit that. Neither did his current seat mate, Yang Jeongin, who obnoxiously stood out in Chan's eyes as a salty reminder that he got himself served. (Seungmin's seated far away, near the front of the classroom. The seats around him are, unfortunately, filled.)

Woojin, at the head of the class, coughs to gather everyone's attention. He's atop a mini, old-school pedestal, papers in hand. A short boy with earpods in is standing besides him like a personal robot would. Chan can't distinguish if he's trying to glare the anxiousness out of the room or genuinely doesn't give a fuck. He assumes it's the first.

"I assume you all know the jist of what I'm about to say," the teddy-bear-like boy begins. Woojin's smile is sweetly sickening. "This year's student council is open for recruitments. After some careful selection and light investigation we've decided that everyone here suffices as astounding candidates. We-"

"Oh cut the bull!"

To Chan's surprise (yet again), it's his seat mate that's interrupting the Kim Woojin. Aliens appear to have take over the room as everyone's eyes grow into saucers.

Woojin chuckles. The kind of chuckle that's an individual breath. One of disbelief. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're not doing a good job of begging," Jeongin scoffs. Chris thinks the bold boy resembles a rich, british aristocrat out for revenge on his step-mom. "We all know this is another one of your magnificent plots to raise the standard of JYP Academy's pupils. To create a monarchy among students." The brace-faced boy clenches his jaw. "So just cut to the chase."

The Kim's eyes darken.

"...Pres," adds the younger. A poor attempt to be respectful AND snarky. He knows how to rile people up, that's for sure.

Chan's idea of the brat alters in a heartbeat. Yes, the boy probably has more pride than JYP Academy has books. Yes, the boy most likely is a slytherin straight out of Harry Potter. And yes the boy did push all of the right buttons on Chan's decently clean uniform (minus the pizza stains—thanks Hyunjin.) But the boy has this sort of character that doesn't fear authority. Wether that's good or not is up for debate, but Chan, at the moment, thinks it's a hella amazing thing.

And the 'pres' immediately takes his suggestion into action. Much to Jeongin's dismay, he does so with too much confidence rather than frustration. He doesn't miss his Australian neighbor's amused chuckle though. "Is he laughing at me?" Jeongin thinks.

"Very well, then. Perhaps I will take a different approach." He places the assortment of snow sheets onto a stray desk. "The student council is what most would label as an 'elite group'." Woojin sits on the same desk, legs dangling with his feat still on the floor. "We are not there simply to plan dances and fundraisers, we're there to make a difference."

When Woojin speaks, he always establishes authority. Chan recalls that part of him well. (Confidence really does attract people.)

"And like Mr. Jeongin here said," he gestures a hand to said bitch, "we want to raise standards." Everyone shares confused looks. Did student council PRESIDENT just admit that out loud?

"Not in the way you all think, though," Woojin clarifies quickly, dispersing the odd glances around the room. "I simply want us to be the top leaders of tomorrow. I want us to inspire the rest of the student body and lead as an example. I want the students in this classroom to be the same people who inspire others—"

"Bullshit," Chan mutters under his breath. The brunet beside him doesn't fail to catch his remark. And not only does the word register in his brain, but the sly boy smirks warily.

At this point, Woojin's lecture has become mumbling in the background.

"Hey, Chris, was it?" Jeongin says casually, a tiny (utterly fake) grin painted on his lips. 

"Shit he CAN smile," the Australian thinks to himself, not failing to observe how he reminded him of a fox. "One annoyingass Swiper."

"It's Chan to you," corrects the blonde, lowering his voice. "What do you want?" he sighs.

The shorter (not by very much, though) hums thoughtfully. There's not much teasing in his voice. It's calm and collected—calculating—but it has the same effect: anxiousness. "I heard you and Mr. Pres over there are good friends." Jeongin's playing a game he thinks he can win.

Without batting an eyelash nor missing a beat, Chan spits, "a person like him could never be my friend. I'd die before being associated with the likes of him."

"So you're that against him..." the brunet almost thinks aloud. "And why is that?"

Red lips open in rhythm to their conversation right before shutting hesitantly. Chan fixes his shoulders square to the front of the class. "You can't trust a lot of people, Kid."

Intrigued describes Jeongin perfectly now (and so does anger from the fact that he was just called 'kid.')

"...So, who would be up to the challenge?" Woojin seems to finish up as soon as Chan and the younger's little exchange of words. And as soon as the Kim's done ranting, so is the Australian with sitting back and being tortured by boredom.

Pocketing his fingers in his pockets, he salutes the president one last time. "I'm out, Kim." The words were plain, but the bitterness was clear. Seungmin shoots him a concerned face. Just as the torn up soles of Chris' converse cross the doorway, his abandoned seat mate raises his hand.

"When's the next meeting, Pres?"

 

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

 

"You got one, didn't you?" Hyunjin asks, voice barely above a whisper. He and Minho are propped against a mirror in one of the school's studios, high tops pressed into the scratched up floor.

Minho nods lightly, sweat gleaming across his neck. His eyes glaze over Felix and Jisung off near the front of the studio. The foreigner of the two is attempting to teach the clumsiest how to do a move Minho could do in his sleep. It's cute that he's trying hard.

Coughing, Hyunjin snaps him out of his 'jisung zone.'

The eldest of a few months clears his throat in response. "So... did Woojin tell you beforehand?"

Hyunjin bounces his head once. "Sure did. I guess I fucked up this time, huh?" The ravenette laughs dryly. Avoiding eye contact, he stares up at the ceiling light. "But if Chan knew that he told me-"

"No buts, Hyunjin." Said boy looks the other in the eye. Cold smoke replaces his usual honey voice. "You saw how upset Chan was about this. After all that's happened between them, you—we—know more than anyone how much he hates Woojin. Despises even."

The taller runs a hand through his sweaty hair. "I know, I know. But Woojin can change. People can change! He knows what he's doing if you guys just gave him a chance." Compassion? Empathy? Minho's not sure what it is but something is cooking in those brown eyes of Hyunjin's and it isn't just desperation for approval.

"Maybe so, but that doesn't change the fact that he hurt Chan. He's the one who broke up with him, he's the reason why he can't be in our classes. He's the fuck reason why-"

"I DID IT! I DID IT!"

The two seasoned dancers are interrupted by unusually high bunny hops and glinting eyes. Jisung looks over at his friends with galaxies in his eyes. "Did you see that? Did you?" He's like a lost puppy.

Giggling, Hyunjin makes his way over to the two. "We did! Maybe next time you can add more hip into it though," he adds, winking. The boy has a knack for switching gears.

Jisung pouts abruptly, then looks to Minho for some sort of validation. His lips look... kissable? The older dismisses a rising feeling in his stomach. "I think you did it perfectly, Sungie."

Combined, a compliment and a nickname from The Lee Minho make Jisung bounce in joy again. And the older brunet feels like the Dreamworks intro, fishing for stars in Jisung's eyes.

"What's this feeling?"

 

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

 

Orange melts into crimsons, the sky breaking in on itself. Gold threads through cloud buttons and occasional black stitch embroiders itself within the masterpiece.

Changbin can't lie, the view is breathtaking. Since freshman year when he stumbled onto the school roof for the first time and took his first whiff of JYP Academy air, he knew he was fucked. That school will and ultimately would take over his life for the next, four long years. It didn't surprise him one bit and it's not like he imagined high school to be a chipper Disney movie. People are shit and drama will always ensue when there's angsty teens on campus, but the horizon gave him a smidgen of hope.

A hope that at least one life-changing miracle would fall into his hands within these famed four years.

Changbin plucks out his black earpods, preferring to listen to his music without them. There's something about listening to slow rap mixed with natural winds that cools him off after a long day.

He and Woojin have just finished up with recruiting some minor roles and about two major ones. Changbin never lets himself show it, or perhaps is incapable due to his instinct of concealing it, but sometimes student council is overbearing. All the events, planning, errands, and maintaining a 4.0 GPA is way more stressful than the school makes it out to be. To his fellow peers he's just breezing by classes. But in reality he's staying up late, studying for potential pop quizzes. People even interpret his eye bags as his 'aesthetic.' How in the fuck is sleep deprivation an 'aesthetic?'

The boy lets out a shaky sigh when the roof's door opens. Changbin stays locked in place, arms over the railing, head looking off, and music filling his ears. He can faintly make out approaching footsteps.

"How'd it go?" a familiar voice oozes.

"Just wonderful," Changbin grumbles, "thanks for asking, Jinnie." 

"Gee.. no need for the sarcasm." Hyunjin mutters, and he finds home in a mimicked position right next to his friend. The pair enjoy each other's company for a while. Silence and sunsets are their personal therapy.

Suddenly, the dancer asks, "so how'd he take it?" 

"Okay, I guess." Changbin's voice is like sandpaper.

"Okay? Just okay?" Hyunjin waves his arms. "Did he yell? Did Woojin? Is Chan on the council now??"

"No, no, and no," Bin says flatly, finally pausing his song. "Chan up and left right when we started to recruit."

"Ah."

A pause. Disappointment.

"I see."

Hyunjin knows he shouldn't feel upset about something as Chan not joining a club of sorts. But he can't help it, he does.

Comfortable silence turns awkward.

"Did.. did you at least get some good recruits?" Hyunjin inquires, trying to hide his emotions.

"I guess..." Bin had already caught on, but decided to play along anyways. He's known Hyunjin for fat too long to not read the subtext of his words.

"Is that all he can say?" Jinnie thinks to himself, ""I guess"???" He sighs. "Like who?"

The latter begins to list name after name. Like Hwang Yeji ("I was a Hwang first") Kim Yugyeom, Yang Jeongin, and so on.

But at a particular name, Hyunjin finally feels an emotion Minho would say is appropriate for the situation—pure shock and 'holyshitwhatthefuck.' Because out of all the names that could've come out of Changbin's chapped lips, it just has to be,

"Kim Seungmin."

 

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

 

AHHH. i am SO SO  
sorry this update  
took me ages .... i  
tried to make it extra  
long to compensate  
for such a wait but  
i think it could've  
been rushed JSKSJ.

you guys have been  
so understanding  
about my current  
situation and patient  
as well! i really can't  
thank you guys enough.  
being able to write,  
something i love, and  
about people i love  
and gain some support  
from some dumb idea  
i came up with when i  
was lowkey high on  
grass jelly makes me  
so so thankful and  
happy you have no  
idea :(


	6. 05. fights and chitchats

"KIM SEUNGMIN DID FUCKING WHAT?!"

Wow, Minho sure loves a wake up call. Pounding and stomping can be heard from outside his bedroom door, a background tune of two familiar voices occasionally shouting adlib. The male forces his head to flip towards his alarm. The dim blue light stings his eyes momentarily and he squints to decipher the numbers better "Three?" he groans.

Minho blindly grabs an extra, unused pillow and stretches it over his ears. Seven seconds of peace is all he can get before he hears more screaming again. ("HOLY SHIT IS THAT A KNIFE?!")

Minho isn't religious but he prays to holy Jesus that he'll be given patience. For no one ever interrupts Lee Minho's beauty sleep—even if they're screeching like a madman.

Ruffling his chestnut hair out of his eyes, the dancer sleepily stands up and stretches his arms carelessly to the side. He feels his knees pop slightly as he walks out of his and Hyunjin's shared room. It's a small little thing, two twin beds, identical nightstands, and a few sprinkled plants, mirrors, and cabinets.

Turning the corner, Minho instantly regrets waking up (then again when doesn't he). The sight of the very place he made his sunny-fucking-eggs is absolute chaos. Spoons are littered everywhere (thankfully no forks have been pulled), a few tacky, plastic plates and—is that Minho's favorite mug?

"Chan! Look it seems bad but I'm sure he'll be just fine!" Hyunjin is frantically waving his hands approximately seven feet away from his enraged friend as to avoid death. Said friend is, well, enraged and threateningly pointing fingers. 

"He'll be just fine?" Chan repeats sourly. "He's with that fucking snake how can he be?!" His face is twisted in an expression Minho rarely sees on the Australian. He starts to think Chan might just do something he'll regret and because of this, rushes in between the two. 

"Guys, calm down. Holy shit it's three a.m. can you guys breathe?" He's still not fully awake so the words escape his mouth so fast and slurred that he sounds drunk.

Hyunjin backs up cautiously, itching hands clamped around the kitchen island's corner with sock-covered feet planted on the floor. His body's ready to slide away to safety if danger comes.

"Calm down?" asks Chan passive aggressively, chest puffing subconsciously. He repeats lines when he's upset. "How am I supposed to 'calm down' when I know that one of my closest friends—that family—is in danger?"

"Oh please. He's student council president not a government spy out to kill," exclaims Hyunjin. His gorgeous lips have an ugly mind of their own.

Not giving the other time to digest how much he royally fucked up, the blonde growls while forwarding. "Why you—"

"Chan, no!" Minho's already got his arms around the older, grip iron-tight. Perhaps all those times Chris dragged him to the gym aren't worthless after all. "Dude, you need to chill!"

"I'll tell you who needs to chill!" Just as Minho's starting to feel confident about his hold, Chan slips out of his arms.

"Shiiit!" Minho sings an octave higher. "Run, Hyunjin!"

He doesn't have to tell him twice.

The boy zooms across their kitchen tiles with the grace of sonic. That's a whole twelve foot track. Okay, he HAS to admit it... that was hella cool.

Hyunjin's ego fest will have to continue later, though, because if he's sonic, Dr. Egghead is in hot pursuit. "Hyunjin come here!" Chan orders.

"Please!" cries the younger, "I haven't even dyed my hair yet. Can you believe it? Someone as pretty as me NOT dying their hair?" He has half the mind to slow himself down and run a hand through his stupid, perfect locks.

Minho slaps his (unwashed) face so hard at Hyunjin's poor persuasive skills. "I never knew he was this dumb."

Tom and Jerry are at the makeshift living room, now, Jerry bring the closest to the TV and Tom being right across from him, behind a couch. Hyunjin has a few inches on the older but in terms of strength he's definitely Jerry. 

Chan claws into the plush of the couch. He has him cornered now. "Oh Hyunjin," he rings, smirk creeping onto his face. His expression reminds the ravenette of the one time they—him, Minho and Chan—had crashed some poor freshman's Halloween party. Chan was dressed up as joker, and his permanent, lipstick smile is identical to the one he sports now.

"Chan it wasn't even my fault! I didn't even attend the meeting," Hyunjin tries. "If I was there I would've said something. Honest."

"Then tell them now! Make him leave!" the Australian shouts as he dangerously leans into his left foot. It looks like he going to take off.

The other's eyes widen in disbelief. Does he really think he has that power? He puts a hand on his chest. "It's too late for that! I'm not president I don't have that power!" The male sighs loudly. "Come on Chan it's just like a club! There's no harm in staying after school sometimes!"

"Come on, Hyunjin, you know that isn't the point!"

"Then what?! What is it?! Why do you think-"

A heart-clenching escapes Chan's lips while he slams a fist into the already torn-up couch. At this, Minho flinches.

The blonde, the dancer, and the exhausted sleeping beauty are left in their pajamas and undies at 3:12 in the morning, the eldest panting and huffing.

Cold prickles at Hyunjin's arms for the first time in a hot minute but he doesn't pay the sensation any mind. Instead he's focusing on another one of the five senses: sight. His gaze is pouring into Chan's, analyzing all the words he can't seem to form. They spell out sentences of agitation. Jinnie's small voice breaks. "Why are you so upset?" 

Minho hasn't heard that tone in a while. It was the trickling voice that the latter only used in serious situations like these.

Silence abducts the room.

By the time the soccer captain has an answer, his breath has calmed. "It's the fact that he'll be on there in the first place."

Hyunjin shakes his head. "I'm on student council too. I don't understand what the big deal is." His knuckles are turning white from gripping the hem of his GOT7 T-shirt too tightly. "I-it just doesn't make sense."

Bare feet walk around the couch to plant ratty soccer-shorts onto the couch. Chan heaves a sigh, burrying his face in his hands as his two younger-classmen join him. 

"It's different for Seungmin, Jinnie," his voice is so shattered that the confident corners of Minho's mouth fall. "I know you can do fine on your own. You know what Woojin's capable of... But Seungmin? Minnie? He doesn't know half of it." A shaky exhale erupts from Chan's lips when he lifts his head. He runs a hand through his messy hair. "I don't—no I can't see him get hurt."

The dancers sympathize with the blonde, serious faces morphing into comforting smiles. "Chan, you cant be thinking like that." Minho squeezes his hand. "Sure, Woojin's a shit person and he did some horrible things. But Seungmin's strong, too. You have to believe in him. Let him be independent."

The Australian is still hesitant. "I... I don't know."

Hyunjin adds on, "I'll be there with him at the meetings and such. Nothing will get past me." A sparkle shines in his grin, a clicking noise being made with his tongue paired with a thumbs-up.

Chan almost rolls his eyes whereas Minho fully mocks him. "Shut up, Prettyboy. He doesn't need a bodyguard." The cat-lover puts a protective arm around the oldest in the room.

The soccer player smiles slowly, the layer of ice over his chocolate pupils melting under his younger friends' grins. He squeezes their hands.

"Thank you."

 

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

 

"Fuck poetry," Felix thinks aloud in English via mutter as he enters said classroom.

The boy's only a week into the school year and he's already labeled Mr. Im's class as the fattest hell hole he's ever stepped foot in.

Mr. Im's a tall, slender man. He has chiseled cheekbones and pale, ivory skin that makes him look like a skeleton. His fingers fit the comparison with bony joints, and the man is never seen without his formal attire: checkered suits.

Now, Felix doesn't have any problem with what Mr. Im or any of his teachers look like. It's just that his room is boiling because of his obsession with the heater and that his monotone voice awakes boring, beige ghosts whose superpowers are yawning. Not to mention the fact that his Korean is still rusty as hell. Why couldn't he have just turned his schedule request on time?

Felix makes his way to the middle of the class, selectively picking his seat far away from any air vents. He knows the teacher would call on the slackers in the back and the smart kids in the front, the middle has to be the safest.

The blonde grabs a chair after analyzing the room. While doing so brushes his fingers against someone else's. His eyes flit up.

"Oh my god," Felix thinks, eyes widening almost comically, "holy shit it's Seo Changbin."

Changbin's hand jerks back in surprise at the sound of his name. His face is calm yet skeptical. "...Do I know you?"

A blush has already invaded the lines between Felix's freckles, burning prominently like a flag calling for war. "Why did I say that out loud? He probably thinks I'm a stalker."

"Hyunjin talks about you a lot," the blonde blurts out, just barely slow enough that the latter can understand him. Felix looks at his feet.  "Ive seen a few-" a cough, "-videos."

It's Changbin's turn to flush, but he somehow manages to hide the pretty pink with cool anger. "Fucking Hyunjin-"

The younger across him is now giggling and Changbin finds the sound to be pleasant. Most of the time he hears that sort of noise it's Hyunjin's obnoxious snickering. "You're good- A-at rapping! I mean-" The flustered younger classmen groans, messing up his hair with his hands before letting out a deep breath. "I'm Lee Felix, by the way." The freckled-boy shakes the older's hand. "It's nice to finally meet you!"

Changbin's gaze lowers to their grips. "It's..." he returns a squeeze, "...nice to meet you too." Twinkling, a glint in Changbin's eye smiles at Felix in replace of his pursed up lips.

 

By the end of class, Felix has learned that Changbin is an only child and that his dad's a doctor while his mom's a lawyer. He also knows that he lives in a rather large house with a butler (which isn't uncommon, this is JYP Academy after all.) His favorite movie genre is horror, his favorite food is fries, and that he, unlike Felix, had poetry as a choice elective.

In all honesty, the blonde did not take the older for a talkative type. He's the kind of guy you see in the halls staring straight ahead, back straight, headphones in and leer wildly pointing foreword. And despite wearing an identical uniform to Lix's (minus the color of the tie) he radiates the exact opposite energy: darkness.

Changbin is intimidating, to say the least. Upon getting to know him though, Felix concludes he's just an average kid like himself. Well, as average as being the rich, musical genius son of a CEO with hella talents can be.

"You're not what I thought you'd be like," the freshman suddenly voices after a long debate with the other about which generation of pokémon was the best. Laughing, he adds, "you're so much more... chill than I thought."

At this, the Seo raises a gentle brow. "I'm not all knives and skulls," he states with a scoff, voice deep and raspy. By his reply it's safe to assume people jump to conclusions often about his personality.

"I never said you were." The Australian jots down a sloppy syllable for their quick-write evaluation on a poem he didn't even read fully. He winks. "Just thought it."

Changbin snorts. "Fair enough." Scribbling down some words of his own, he hums. "You are exactly what I thought you'd be, Lee Felix."

Said boy's ears perk up like a hamster out of its cage when it hears the song of food. He looks toward the older. "And what's that? Dumb?"

Felix chuckles as Changbin smiles faintly, but when the shorter ones wmeets his eyes, Felix halts his breath.

The sharp end of his chin is pressed against his palm, fingers dipping into the curves of his cheeks and red, bottom lip. His raven hair is just barely tracing the lines against his eyebrow slit and the tips of his eyelashes create apertures for shooting stars to reach his eyes. It's only when the reds of his lips open that Lix exhales.

"You're just as bright as you look."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is definitely one of the  
> worst chapters i've ever  
> written,, i am so sorry SJS  
> idk why but this chapter  
> was hard to write... i don't  
> think i delivered chan's  
> emotions very well & i vvv  
> much dislike how changlix  
> was portrayed. but uh,, i  
> tried ://
> 
> sorry this wasn't really  
> worth the wait :(


	7. 06. changbin’s pretty het but that’s ok

' CHANGBIN'S PRETTY  
HET BUT THAT'S OK.'

 

"FIRST ORDER of business says... find more candidates?" Hyunjin shakes his head, flapping the instructions Woojin printed out just for today. MLA format and everything. The older is supposedly visiting his grandparents in the country for a few days. To fill his absence, a full binder of schedules with to-dos and to-nots was given to the latter. Man that guy's overbearing. "Don't we like, have a full council already?"

The room's community outreach representative and leader, Ryujin (who also sides as the dance team's co-captain), bobs her head. "We'd be considered to have more than enough," informs the raven-haired girl. Her lips are pursed like her even eyes. "I see no issues in numbers." Sure enough, the room is packed with over sixteen sets of hands.

Old room #428 was cleaned up in an organized group effort. Desks were moved and bookshelves were dusted, making enough space for the main attraction of the room: a table. It's a large, rectangular one made of fine wood with silver lining. Changbin was given the task, along with a few other volunteers, to haul the pricey piece of furniture dead in the center. He can recall the knit-picking he received from some junior about how they were never lined up correctly ("No more left. Your other left! ...Just kidding go right.") After that taxing job, though, the moving team was able to take a break while another group slid in some chairs. Overall, the room isn't too shabby. Well, maybe it is for a school like JYP Academy.

"Is there some sort of department we didn't think to cover?" This time it's school outreach leader, Yugyeom, who's voicing. "Ya' know, something we peasants couldn't come up with,' jokes the blue-haired teen. Don't get him wrong, the committee of so-called "school leaders" do work together on equal ground. It's just they work together for Woojin. A monarchy within a democracy.

"Maybe?" Hyunjin guesses, but he's doubtful. Woojin always has something hidden between the lines.

A clunk from the far end of the table sent a vibration that could be felt in a wave. Yugyeom jolts his arms out of their comfortable position in shock. When Hyunjin looks down the chairs, it's Jeongin's sparkling, black soles that wave hello. "We all know that's not it. Pres wants what he wants, and what he wants, he gets."

Woong, who's speciality is fundraising, knits his brows. "Why is finding new members such a big deal?"

Jeongin sighs as if the answer's in bold letters at their feet. "Clearly he was using us to get the people he actually wants on the council hooked. Baited." The fox boy shrugs. "And some of you guys fell for it."

"What are you implying?" Ryujin questions, about five seats away. The reading glasses on her nose hang low and pointed. They poke a death stare Jeongin's way. "That he's manipulating us?"

"All I'm saying is that whatever or whoever Woojin wants here has got to be of some value," he explains.

The preacher isn't too far from the target, in Changbin's opinion. He makes a valid point and it could definitely be the case. "I've gotta agree with the kid," states he. Jeongin holds in a bite at the term 'kid,' but annoyingly smirks at the nods he's receiving.

Then, Yugyeom adds on. "I wouldn't be surprised if he only used some of us to convince the real prize to join. He doesn't lose anything, either from that. Just gets more hands."

A member under student outreach slams her hand on the table. Disbelief is coating her face. "T-that can't be true! Woojin is caring and strong, handsome too..." (there's more pink things than disbelief on her face now) "He's like... perfect! He wouldn't do something like that!"

Laughing, Jeongin slides his boots out of their seat. "Don't let him fool you. He could throw all of us away if he wanted without batting an eye." The brunet flicks a piece of imaginary lint off of his pants while the girl gulps. "You're letting a pointless crush get in your way."

The girl's face is the shade of a fire truck now. "Hey I don't think of President like that!"

"Oh you do." Jeongin slots his chin into the palm of his hand, tauntingly smiling. "And I'll be the first to tell you that your little crush will get you no where but down." There's a tinge of... pain? Sorrow? A tinge of something in that sly smile that makes Hyunjin feel conflicted sympathy. "Love is a hassle and-"

"That's enough." Ryujin looks irritated. This whole conversation is starting to get onto her last nerve. She joined the council because she knew it'd look amazing on her college applications, especially since its JYP Academy and the fact that she has an important leadership role. Not to watch poor, lovesick girls try to defend maniacal dictators. "Bickering, or whatever this is, is over. Let's just follow the instructions just as they're laid out." The raven-haired girl looks up at Hyunjin from her seat. The gloss in her stare orders the boy to continue.

"Ah yes, the instructions." He fumbles through the papers once more, landing on the page he last left up on. "Go through the packets provided in the box," he mumbles through what he thinks to be unimportant nonsense, "and that's it! We just all need to pick a candidate and then Woojin will select from there."

Ryujin intensifies her glare, scanning over every single person in the room. "Does he make himself clear?" There's so much authority in her voice that some members freeze up.

"YES MA'AM!"

 

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

 

"Soooo how was the meeting?" Felix and Seungmin are currently outside on the courtyard lawn eating lunch. Mainly because 1. Some seniors stole their usual table, and natural selection knows the duo couldn't fight them for those seats, and 2. Felix would rather eat cat food than watch Jisung hopelessly flirting with the asexual and aromantic Lee Minho. The kid doesn't know how to give up.

Seungmin falls onto his back with his arms out, just like those trust falls in the movies. "It was... interesting. Pretty stressful, I won't lie."

His company his half-listening, the blonde using the majority of his attention for his PBJ sandwiches. "Why's that?"

"Well..." the brunet sits up and looks through the leaves of a tree. A golden veil of sunshine stains his face when he does so, and Seungmin finds the warmth to be peaceful. The weather's absolutely amazing today. The sky's blue, the birds are chirping, and there's a cold breeze to balance the heat. They two students made a wise choice coming out here. "...Some of the members are overbearing."

"Yeah?" Lix sucks some drooping jelly off of his finger. "Like who? Besides you, that is."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny," Minnie spits. He steals a bite from Felix's sandwich when the Australian sticks his tongue out. 

"Hey! Today's has extra peanut butter." The older pouts.

Seungmin licks his lips. "I can tell."

"You're unbelievable."

"Thanks." With a small smile, the brunet continues. "Basically Ryujin and this other kid in my grade went off about Woojin."

"Uh correction: a freshman and some other kid in your grade. Ryujin is an unbothered skinny queen."

The two roommates raise their gaze to Hyunjin who makes himself comfy. He, too, steals a bite off of Lix's sandwich when he's distracted ("Again?!")

"Aren't you supposed to be eating lunch with Jisung and Minho?" asks Seungmin.

Hyunjin gags dramatically. "I couldn't even eat lunch with those two. Their gay shows more than Changbin's."

Both younger boys choke. "Seo Changbin?" they shriek in unison.

Jinnie's mind doesn't know if he should be scared that they're so in sync or laugh at their faces. He chooses the former. "Yeah... Do you guys know him?"

"I'm on student council," Seungmin deadpans to which Hyunjin 'ohs' at.

"He's in my poetry class." Felix shakes his head in disbelief. All that time of reading poetry together just seemed like a bro thing in his eyes. You know, just two dudes reading poems about flowers to each other. "He radiates some big heterosexual energy. I've never seen him as a gay." The blonde's probably chanting in his mind, "one of us! One of us!"

Hyunjin snickers. "I've known Binnie since sixth grade, and let me tell you he's anything but straight." The dancer sinks deeper into the grass, propping himself up onto his elbows. "It's almost funny to watch him get so many love confessions and to watch girls' faces when he tells them the breaking news."

Seungmin can suddenly feel pity for someone in this dark and lonely world. "And you say I'm a sadist," he tells Felix.

The eldest dancer shrugs. "Trust me, if you ever get the joy of witnessing one of his rejectees you'll understand."

 

The next time Felix walks into Mr. Im's poetry class, he sits right next to Changbin without hesitation. The boy's never been too shy after he gets to know someone. They end up being partners for their assignment again, as no one in each of their friend groups would ever pick to be in that lame class. After all, no one except Changbin wants to write a four paged report about what Shakespeare must've felt when he wrote one of his sonnets. What are they, mind readers?

Almost as soon as they get their assignment does Felix, magician of social cues, blurt out, "so you're gay?"

Changbin drops his pencil. "Did I hear that right?" The older coughs. A poor attempt to conceal his previous clumsy actions. "Sorry can you repeat that? I'm not sure I heard you correctly."

This time, Felix makes himself crystal clear. "I asked if you're gay." The freckled-boy leans towards Binnie's desk, ears immersed in their conversation. "You know, tips on tips. Homo not bromo. Blowjobs not brojobs. Crooked not-"

"Oh my sweet Jesus shut up." Changbin's hand smells like cinnamon, Felix notes. He knows this because his palm went flying over his mouth at the speed of light, not letting the dancer get out another insufferable synonym for homosexual. Even Hyunjin wouldn't know that many on the top of his head—and he's the biggest hoe (not ho) the school's ever seen.

The Australian struggles in quiet muffles to get his freedom of speech back, to no avail. He weakly punches his poetry partner. "Fwet gwo of meh!"

Scoffing, the other replies, "when you're spouting that shit? Not until you cool it."

Lix growls. "Eye fwiddle Wanda do tis," the blonde says.

Before Changbin can try to decipher his jumbled words, a warm wet runs down his palm. 

Felix did not just lick him.

"Holy fuck!" The raven haired boy wipes his hand off on the other faster than the Flash ever could. "You just licked me." Changbin knows this kid's crazy now. "You. Just. Licked. Me?"

"You wouldn't move your hand," defends Felix innocently.

"So you licked me?!" Each syllable is dripping in bewilderment. He's never met someone like Felix. Ever. The freckled-boy is a foreigner with a weird accent who licks people on second meeting in poetry class. At least he's unique.

"How many times do you have to say it?" He's so casual about everything, too, which makes it ten times more humiliating. "Have you never had a guy lick you?"

The question's one big trap because either way, yes or no, Changbin loses. He wants to bang his head on his desk right then and there. This kid really- 

"Okay, yes, I'm gay. Can we just get on with our project now? And can I go to the bathroom to wash my hands?" The poor boy is way too overwhelmed by shock and confusion. One of the only things he finds peace in, poetry, is slowly becoming chaotic.

Felix's lips tug into a pleased grin. "Yes. But first I have to say something."

Changbin inwardly moans. "What is it?" He sighs.

"Your hand tastes good no homo."

 

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

 

JYP Academy is different from other schools. If you haven't noticed that yet you're dumber than Han Jisung in geology (he made the comparison of volcanoes to the female reproduction system. Literally turn a diagram of the urethra upside down and they're identical.) Whenever another exhausting, homework-packed day is over, students rush out of their classrooms to their lockers and zoom out of the school doors. Those final, low bells are pure bliss to the kids' ears. For they symbolize freedom from their stuffy uniforms and itchy socks, even if it's just for a few hours.

Yang Jeongin, however, is a special case. While the rest of his classmates basically screech about the hallways he has a book in hand, a path always clearing for him in fear that they'll disrupt the male. And whereas every one is slamming their lockers, Jeongin never finds use in his, and carries all of his belongings in a clean-cut messenger bag.

Whispers hug to his body. Things like, "he's probably going to his limo," or "I saw his butler pick him up yesterday," tightening onto his wrists. 

As you know, the brace-faced boy has always had circulating rumors about him. So many have gone around that even the simple things like his birthday have no confirmation, straying far from popular beliefs about the genius. One generalized thought of the boy is that he's very very wealthy. Fancy limos, new suits, the whole shabam.

So if you were to see the same germaphobic, robo-student, Yang Jeongin on your eleven o'clock train in a greasy, oversized fast food uniform, you have to look twice, and that's exactly what Hwang Hyunjin did.

The silhouette has a face mask on per usual, but there's doubt in the familiarity of the silhouette. Hyunjin rapidly blinks. "There's no way that's him, he whispers.

The train is pretty spacious, only a few businessmen and women—with occasional normal-dressed citizens—are occupying the seats. Jeongin is rebelliously standing, glowering at the seats so many butts have cozed up too before. Hyunjin imagines he's thinking about all the germs per square feet of plastic one has.

The dancer slips down the train's cheap seating accommodations, aiming to 101% confirm that the clown-lookin' boy is, in truth, Yang Jeongin.

Regrettably, Hyunjin didn't move fast enough. A choppy robotic voice ran over the speakers signaling the arrival at a new station. Just by the way the paltry sound of the next stop fills his ears reminds the flirt of why his mom always told him to avoid it. So when Jeongin—or what looks like Jeongin—prepares for the door, Hyunjin becomes torn.

He either follows a fast food worker who feasibly could be his classmate into a dangerous part of the city, or play it safe and ride safely home like planned. It goes without saying that the pure-hearted Hyunjin got off the train early.

The fast food boy leisurely pulls out a thin book from his back pocket, during which thin swarms of pedestrians maneuver around him. Fear isn't locked in his eyes like it is in Hyunjin's, which makes said boy distrust his gut.

He proceeds with his unofficial bodyguard duties despite this, trying to stay lowkey and out of sight. "Honestly, Hwang Hyunjin, what are you doing?" he thinks to himself. 

'Jeongin' suddenly makes a sharp left turn, entering a street that eventually runs into a dead end since black, wired fence divides the area from another. From the looks of the compacted buildings and series of staircases, he appears to be visiting someone in the apartments. Hyunjin ducks behind a pole when he hears and sees a stern figure approach.

Creeping out just enough of his head to see the person clearly, the dancer makes out a twenty-something year old man in a clean suit. Rectangular glasses block most of his face, but Hyunjin thinks he can spy stubble at his chin. He's a little taller than 'Jeongin' as well which doubles the worry in the half-stalker.

"Mr. Woon-"

"It's Yang," neely confirmed Jeongin corrects,

"I don't categorize myself with scum like my father."

 

꒰ 🍓 ꒱

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tried to cough this chapter up the tenses kinda wacH oop


End file.
